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09 January 2013

In which June loves herself. Hope you were seated.

Good GRAVY, a lot of you have sent photos in! Keep sending them--you have till tomorrow. And title it BLOG PHOTO in the subject. Once I yelled, y'all paid attention.

I was avoiding doing my Tracy Chapman workout last night, so I looked at my old status updates on Facebook. What is sad is the AMOUNT of love I have for myself. Here are some:

June Gardens has got the music in her and wonders if tweezers would get it out.

There would be a lot greater chance that I would "lay lady, lay" across your big brass bed if you knew when to use "lay" and when to use "lie."

June Gardens thinks one of the cats who mated under her window last night? Might have been faking it a little.

You edit 16 tomes and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt.

Maybe the world is full of food and sex and spectacle and we're all just hurling towards an apocalypse, in which case it's not your fault. (I stole that from Say Anything. The greatest movie of all time.)

June Gardens doesn't understand people who say, "I can never just sit home doing nothing." I mean, I could totally sit home doing nothing for 17 days in a row.

June Gardens hates it when people say, "Get to know me as a person." As opposed to what? Getting to know you as a chipmunk?

Hoping it's a thyroid condition and not a blueberry doughnut condition.

June Gardens is having an avocado for breakfast. She is the good kind of fat.

Having pasta and antipasto and worried this will cause me to implode.

June Gardens's coworker just gave her the worst-tasting gum humanly possible. It was "tropical" flavor, but by "tropical" they might mean malaria flavored.

June Gardens fought the laws of gravity, but the laws won.

Yes, every day is a gift, but does it have to be socks?

Anyway, I have to go. Am meeting Ned for lunch, as it will be THE LAST DAY I SEE HIM TILL MONDAY and I have to doll up. He has to go do a work thing. You know how I get when I do not see Ned. Remember on The Jetsons, when Rosie does that impression of Judy when she's broken up with a boy? And Rosie bends over hopelessly and says, "Ahhh-uhhhh. Ahhhh-uhhhh." That'll be me.

Comments

Good GRAVY, a lot of you have sent photos in! Keep sending them--you have till tomorrow. And title it BLOG PHOTO in the subject. Once I yelled, y'all paid attention.

I was avoiding doing my Tracy Chapman workout last night, so I looked at my old status updates on Facebook. What is sad is the AMOUNT of love I have for myself. Here are some:

June Gardens has got the music in her and wonders if tweezers would get it out.

There would be a lot greater chance that I would "lay lady, lay" across your big brass bed if you knew when to use "lay" and when to use "lie."

June Gardens thinks one of the cats who mated under her window last night? Might have been faking it a little.

You edit 16 tomes and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt.

Maybe the world is full of food and sex and spectacle and we're all just hurling towards an apocalypse, in which case it's not your fault. (I stole that from Say Anything. The greatest movie of all time.)

June Gardens doesn't understand people who say, "I can never just sit home doing nothing." I mean, I could totally sit home doing nothing for 17 days in a row.

June Gardens hates it when people say, "Get to know me as a person." As opposed to what? Getting to know you as a chipmunk?

Hoping it's a thyroid condition and not a blueberry doughnut condition.

June Gardens is having an avocado for breakfast. She is the good kind of fat.

Having pasta and antipasto and worried this will cause me to implode.

June Gardens's coworker just gave her the worst-tasting gum humanly possible. It was "tropical" flavor, but by "tropical" they might mean malaria flavored.

June Gardens fought the laws of gravity, but the laws won.

Yes, every day is a gift, but does it have to be socks?

Anyway, I have to go. Am meeting Ned for lunch, as it will be THE LAST DAY I SEE HIM TILL MONDAY and I have to doll up. He has to go do a work thing. You know how I get when I do not see Ned. Remember on The Jetsons, when Rosie does that impression of Judy when she's broken up with a boy? And Rosie bends over hopelessly and says, "Ahhh-uhhhh. Ahhhh-uhhhh." That'll be me.